


Lost & Found

by TiniestMug



Category: Lore Olympus (Webcomic)
Genre: Fluff, Gyms, M/M, Male Friendship, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2021-01-02 12:22:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21161597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TiniestMug/pseuds/TiniestMug
Summary: Eros & Hermes hang out.





	Lost & Found

**Author's Note:**

> I have a plan for this, but I have not written past this...just notes. This is my first fanfic. Ever. Been reading fics for...~20 years. You all have inspired me, but there is ZERO obligation to like or support this. I am but a tiny mug on a tiny adventure. Also, I did the proof-reading myself...so there's bound to be something fucked up in here. I have an irrational fear of showing someone my work...but I'm fine posting it??!? Hello, brain, are you working?

**EROS: i'm here**

**EROS: ur still comin, right? i don't wanna sweat alone ;)**

**HERMES: brt**

Hermes dropped down onto the pavement outside Fit To Be A God, shoving his phone into his track jacket as he pulls open the door, chilled air pouring out to mix with the swelter of midday Olympus.

Eros hops up from a nearby chair, slinging his lavender gym bag over his shoulder.

"Hey, man!" Hermes holds out his fist to Eros, who bumps it with a fist of his own. "How's Psyche?"

A dreamy look passes over Eros' face as Hermes heads toward the back of the room, Eros falling in step with him as he passes. "Perfect." Scarlet burns across his cheeks. "I-I mean, it's still new...ish. It feels new, anyway." His free hand sheepishly reaches for the back of his neck. "We're taking it slow. Starting over. Doing things the right way. No kidnapping. No hidden identity." The pair push their way into the locker room, the acrid scent of sweat slamming into their faces.

“I'm happy for you, man! You seem a lot more upbeat. I'm glad!” Hermes claps Eros on the back as he walks to a locker and spins the dial a few times before popping it open. “Any plans for the weekend?”

Eros snags a couple small towels from the rack, drops his bag on an empty bench and unzips the main pocket, drawing out a pair of bright pink shorts and a cropped t-shirt to place on top. “I'm taking Psyche to a cute little place on the outskirts of town. They have the best brunch mimosas.” While toeing the back of each shoe to release his socked feet, he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his trousers, letting them fall to his ankles. He steps out of the garment on the floor to grab the shorts from the bench, stuffing his legs in the appropriate holes. “I think she's getting more comfortable going out in public, now that grumpy gramps gave the official ok.” A roll of thunder rumbles off in the distance. Eros and Hermes halt their motions to look at each other with wide eyes. “Z-Zeus. Zeus gave the ok.” he stammers out, grabbing the hem of his shirt and hauling it over his not-as-in-shape-as-he'd-like-it-to-be chest.

Hermes shrugs out of his track jacket, hanging it on a hook in the back of the locker. He grabs the gym shoes stored inside, dropping them on the floor by his feet. He too, moves to slip out of his shorts. The gesture catches Eros' eye, his motion halted, brow quirking up in surprise. “Why are you taking those off? Aren't you already dressed?” he quips in minor confusion, tossing his shirt on the bench.

"What d'you mean? These are flying shorts.” Hermes feigns indignation. “See?" he gestures to the racing stripes down the side. "These lines make you go faster. They're more AIR-o-dynamic," he grins, a triangle of teeth peeking out from his smiling lips.

Eros rolls his eyes, but he can't fight the tug at the corner of his mouth. He shrugs on his lilac t-shirt, forfeiting the topic to Hermes' absurd logic. Plopping himself down on the end of the bench, he reaches in the bag to grab his brand new workout shoes. He may be fashionable, but blisters are no joke. He broke them in the other day chasing around his pig, Sweetpea. Psyche's laugh echos in his mind. He'll never tire of that, as long as he lives, even if the laughter is at his expense.

One after the other, Eros folds a leg over the opposite knee & wedges his foot in his shoe. Resting both feet on the ground, he looks over to see Hermes slide a white tank top over his bare crimson back while simultaneously shoving his feet into his gym shoes. Reaching in his bag one more time, Eros trades his phone for a bottle of water, and zips the flap shut. Rising to his feet with the newly procured water and the towels he grabbed earlier, he heads toward the locker room door. "Alright, fly boy. Let's get this over with," Eros chides, tossing a sweat towel to Hermes as he turns around, slinging his own around his neck. Eros eyes go wide as he takes in Hermes' newly revealed shirt. “Pfft. Is that?” he gasps “Is that Persephone?”

Hermes pulls the bottom of the shirt away from him so he can look down at the smiling pink face of his childhood friend. “Isn't it cute? I got it from a Meaties mail-away.”

“What the hell are Meaties?” Eros' confusion scrawled on his face as the two make their way out of the locker room.

“Barley Mother cereal. It's plant based, packed with protein, and _delicious_. I don't know how they do it, but it's great post-workout fuel.” Hermes pulls at the shirt near his chest. “Got it for fifty box tops.”

Eros' jaw dropped. “Fifty? Five-zero?” Hermes nods, proud of himself. “Hermes, cereal is like, what? Four drachma a box? Times fifty? That's-- Gaia--200 drachma for a tank top.”

“Huh” He pauses to think on that for a second. “So? It's cute and it has my friend on it. It's easily worth double.” Eros is still staring at him like he's escaped a padded room. Hermes quirks an eyebrow at him. “Like you've never spent 200 drachma on a tank top.”

“Ok, fair point. It is cute, and it looks _great_ on you.” Eros appreciates his friend's form and plops his water bottle in the cup holder of an elliptical.

“Right? Thanks, man!” Hermes puts his hand over his heart as he steps on the machine next to Eros'. Both machines spring to life as they fiddle with the settings. Hermes pulls earbuds from his pocket and tucks them and his sweat towel in his cup holder in lieu of a water bottle. His strides pick up and he appears to glide in the air. He's always felt at home in the gym, at least on the running machines. It feels _natural_ to move this way.

They banter back and forth for a while, chatting about work, the latest gossip, Hades and Persephone. “Oh yeah, everyone at work knows but those two dorks,” Hermes admits with a shit eating grin.

“Someone has to jump in soon, or one of them is going to fuck it up.” Empathy bleeding into Eros' voice, hands gripping each end of the towel still wrapped around his neck.

“Maybe that someone should be _you_, my guy. Love _is_ your domain.” Hermes makes a good point, but...

“You know I can't meddle in immortal affairs anymore. Not after Hera got all pissy.” Eros works up a sweat much faster. He really is out of shape. Amazing what a lack of orgies will do for your mid-section. He smiles to himself. It's worth it, but damn. He wants his body back to the way it was before the stress-eating, and now the comfort foods. Gaia, does Psyche knows how to cook. Using the back of his hand to wipe drool from the corner of his mouth, he glances at the time. Ooof, it's already been an hour and a half of just running. “Well, tartar sauce. I gotta get outta here if I'm gonna get back home and shower before Psyche wakes up. I don't want to smell like a barbecue for breakfast.” He clicks the button to power off the elliptical. He tugs the towel from his shoulders to pull it down his face and neck, sopping up beads of sweat. Folding the damp towel over his arm and grabbing his water bottle to swig some of that sweet Posey nectar, he walks around his machine to say goodbye.

Hermes slaps Eros' hand and snaps his fingers back while not breaking stride. “Monday, same time?”

“You got it.” Eros grabs his tummy and squeezes it a bit. “I'm gonna have to work off brunch. I'll see you then.”

Hermes rolls his eyes at one of his gorgeous pink friends. “You still look great, but I'm always down to work out!”

Beaming at the heartfelt compliment, “Thanks.” It's nice to hear. His self-confidence was much more stable when he was having sex with a bunch of people. He knows Psyche means it when she says he's attractive, but he can't help the nagging feeling that she's just saying that because they're together. _Ugh, monogamy is hard. Hard. Mmm, Psyche. Fuck. I gotta get out of here. _“Alright, I'm out. Have a good weekend!”

Eros disappears in the back. He re-emerges from the locker room a handful of seconds later with that same lavender bag slung over his shoulder and gives Hermes a final wave as he reaches the door. He steps out of the freezer into the heat with a little shiver as Helios' rays kiss his skin for the first time in hours. Hermes watches as he shakes out his wings and takes to the sky. Pulling out his earbuds from the folds of the towel, he pops them in his ears playing a workout playlist from his watch. He idly turns up the elliptical and starts running in earnest.

When sweat soaks through Persephone's smiling face, he drags the offending shirt off his slick skin and drapes it over the rail of the elliptical to dry it out. He closes his eyes and enjoys the cool air of the gym on his heated skin, puffs of A/C lifting wefts of hair to wiggle in their frail breeze. Some of the songs have words. Some of those words Hermes knows. The ones he knows, he mumbles, humming the other parts to himself. As he relaxes, he threads in some gibberish where words should be. Less humming, more air guitar.

A tall, muscular figure approaches from behind the crimson god, his voice low and full of husk. Hermes feels the rumble in his chest and turns around in time to see a large golden man walking away, wiping his face on a white towel. He shrugs and goes back to his workout. A few minutes later, he checks his watch and decides it's time for him to get some fresh air. He grabs his towel and heads to the locker room.

Still listening to his training montage mood music, he opens his locker and throws on the shirt he wore into the gym. Kicking off his gym shoes and shrugging on his track jacket, he pats his pockets for everything. Phone. Keys. Check. He stuffs his feet in his outdoor shoes, jams the lock back on his locker and heads for the door. He passes the golden god talking to the receptionist on the way out, getting a look at his rugged face, scars over his cheeks and the visible skin of his arms. With a nod and the hint of a smile, Hermes heads out of the gym, hands shoved in his pockets. _He looks familiar, but I can't place him._ Once outside, in the high heat of midday, he scans both sides of the road and takes off.

_Where have I seen that god?_ Half-way home he stops mid-flight. “SHIT. I left Persephone at the gym. SHIT, SHIT, SHIT. Gaia, I can never tell Artemis about this. Why does this always happen to me?” He turns around and heads back at full speed.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm never calling water anything but "sweet Posey nectar" ever again. 😜


End file.
